sw1mushfandomcom-20200215-history
Birds of a Feather
It was mid-afternoon in New Alderaan, and the sun shone brightly high above the wispy pink clouds that drifted past. Though most of Organa Park was lively and bustling, Myiari sat away from it all in one of the smaller garden plazas quite a ways from the main path. The area was roughly circular, surrounded by raised planters filled with flowers with a small, bubbling fountain in the center. Her nose buried in a book, she seemed to take pleasure in the relative quiet of this part of the park the chirping of birds and the running water of the fountain aside. "Looks as if I've found you yet again," comes a voice, filtering through the plantlife. A moment later its source steps into view, head turning from side to side - Brek. He carries objects with him: in one hand he has a platter of Corellian take-out, the cheap container neatly shut to prominently display the restaurant's emblem. In his other hand is a holonovel, its animated color shimmering in the light. The title reads, simply: 'The Galactic Empire - A Psychological Exploration'. He gazes over at Myiari as he draws nearer, his shod feet soft on the ground. "Join you?" he adds, lifting an eyebrow to demonstrate his inquiry. Myiari glances up from her holonovel with a smile, and shifts aside on the bench, patting at the empty space beside her. "Go right ahead," she replies cheerily. "I don't mind at all." She smiles wryly at him through narrowed eyes, an almost devious look within them. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bumping into me on purpose, but I don't suppose that's an entirely bad thing." Brek settles in, sliding back and folding his legs as he arranges his book and food haphazardly upon his lap. "Thank you," he answers, bracing the container by propping it against one leg of the bench. He retrieves a packet from its interior, tearing it open and producing a set of cheap utensils. "Maybe," he replies, glancing up and smiling with false blitheness. "Would you hold it against me if I admitted to it? Not that it isn't obvious at this point. I like your company." Myiari laughs quietly and shakes her head. "I don't think I would. I don't mind your company at all, to be honest. You're not arrogant or irritating like most of the spacers that pass through here are; it's nice to be able to talk to somebody 'normal' for once, and without getting involved in a shootout afterwards." She scratches at the back of her head, smiling awkwardly as she delivers the last comment. "In case you haven't figured that out yet, it happens a lot." "Uhh..." Brek grins uncomfortably, reaching up to drag his fingertips over his neck as he stares uneasily back at Myiari. "Well, if you stay around me long enough, there will be shooting, I can promise you that. It's kind of my line of work, I think I mentioned." His attention turns to his lunch. Taking up one of the utensils, he neatly spears a chunk of meat, devouring it in moments. "So, you don't know many 'normal' people, then?" he comments, but the questioning tone in his voice is undeniable. "Well, I don't know if it's the people I know that are abnormal, or if I'M the one that's abnormal," the medic clarifies, frowning thoughtfully as she stares up at the puffy pink clouds overhead. "Senator Tokoga is a nice man, but being a politician, he attracts a lot of negative attention too. Commander Rasi probably still has a profile on me in his office under the presumption I'm involved in something illegal. And I've lost count of how many times I've been caught in the middle of a shootout, an assassination attempt, or something being blown up." She huffs out a small sigh, having said everything in almost a single breath. "Sometimes I think the cosmic forces of the galaxy are actively working against me or something. It's like when I left Commenor, I left the concept of a 'normal' life behind. I guess this is what I get for deciding to become a medic; no good deed goes unpunished, y'know?" "I know exactly what you're talking about," replies Brek, his appetite suddenly forgotten. He's staring down at his food wistfully, prodding at the lumps of mass-produced meat with the tip of his fork. "You seem normal to me, but I might be crazy too. That's why I'm here." He takes another bite, barely chewing it before swallowing hard. "I've been on a lot of missions recently. I knew a lot of good men." The fork drops from his fingers as he looks up, his eyes fixed on the fountain. "Most recently, we boarded a smuggling vessel. Local government had hired us to stop them. They were ready for us. Standard-issue weaponry wasn't a patch on what they were packing." A bitter smile creases his lips. "A disruptor beam tore apart my best friend. Another half of our squad got taken down by a thermal detonator. I was the only one that walked out of the cargo bay. I got a commendation." He snorts, glancing over at Myiari. "You believe that? I watch all those good men get obliterated and they give me a commendation for good service. It's not the first squad I've seen die. Must be fifth. Seventh. I've lost count. I don't like counting." Myiari glances aside to Brek, offering him a faint, sympathetic smile. "I don't like counting either. All the people who died during transport because their injuries were too severe. The ones we were never able to even get to because a freak accident had the emergency staff stretched to the limit. The choices I've had to make on who gets a chance at recovering and living, and who gets left behind to die." She draws in a shuddering breath and blinks back what appear to be tears, shaking her head. "The first time someone died on my watch, I didn't want to pronounce the time of death. I tried so hard to keep them living until my boss had to tell me to let it go, and that accepting that we couldn't save everybody was a reality we had to face. It's a horrible feeling, that. Having the skills to save lives, but you still can't save evoryone." "At least you can do something instead of watching people die," Brek replies morosely, viciously jabbing his meal and taking another bite. He chews at length before gulping down the mashed mouthful, cheeks shrinking inward as he swallows. "You have medical training. There's situations where I wish -I- did. I've watched men gasping for their last breaths. Bleeding out. The lights in their eyes fading." He hunches forward, his large palms resting on his knees, dark eyes sweeping over the empty plaza. "The best I was ever able to do for them was hold their hand and tell them that it was... All going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right. Just close your eyes, find the light, go to sleep." His lip twitches, the words pouring from him scarcely heeded: "One man. Legs gone. Torn off by missiles. So hurt he didn't even feel it. I watched him laugh to death while his insides fell out. Held his hand, too. He just kept laughing about how... *cold* it was." The thick fingers of one of his hands curl into a trembling fist. Myiari digs around in her duffel bag and produces something that bears an uncanny resemblance to a wrapped ration bar. Ripping the wrapper off, she takes a bite out of the morsel of food and begins chewing on it slowly, though it does little to dispel to look of nausea on her face. "I've had to do that too," she mumbles. "It's kind of hard to stay composed when doing that." She falls silent for a while, simply staring straight ahead into the sparkling waters of the fountain. "Have you ever heard of something called a Mercy Blow?" "That depends on what sort of Mercy Blow we're talking about," responds Brek, his voice rough and composed as he lays aside his food. His tone regains some semblance of stability, albeit colder and more distant than usual. "Are you talking about shooting a man to put him out of his misery?" His lap now clear, he places his holobook at its center, hands folded impassively atop its gaudy cover. "I've done that. Sometimes." "It's kind of like that, yeah," Myiari says with a slight nod. "Us medics have clearance to end a person's life if they're too fargone to save, and leaving them alive would cause them a lot of pain and suffering. I've only ever done it once or twice because doing it makes me sick. I'm a medic; I'm supposed to help heal people, not kill them. It practically goes against the codes I swore to live by when I started this job." Her hands rise to her head, tugging at her hair in between her fingers. "I... don't like killing people. Even if it's to kill or else be killed, I don't like doing it. But...sometimes I'm not given a choice." "That's fine," answers Brek, his eyes turning across to Myiari. His expression - and his tone, as well - are firm, and he reaches out, taking her lightly by the shoulder as though to emphasize her point. "Don't feel bad for killing people who need it. Or deserve it." He draws in breath, nostrils flaring, his expression momentarily heavy as he scrutinizes her. "Don't feel bad for defending yourself, either. If you have a blaster pointed at you, there's not much you can do. I'd take the shot without a second thought." Myiari seems to regain her composure slightly at the grip on her shoulder, and offers a slow nod of her head. "You've seen me shoot. It's easy to not think about all that when you're in the moment. All you can really think about is that your life or someone else's life is in danger; do something. It only really hits you afterwards..." She manages a half-hearted chuckle, her eyes meeting Brek's. "It's weird, isn't it? I'm not even close to being a soldier, but I understand how one feels." "It changes you," comments Brek in reply, only then seeming to notice his hand. Blinking self-consciously, he lifts it and tugs it away from Myiari, settling it back into his lap. "Enough of those 'hitting you afterward' moments and it stops hitting you." He offers a smile, humorless, emotionless. "It's a bit frightening when that happens. But then it just becomes a job. The only time it seems wrong is when you're watching your friends die and thinking that maybe, to someone else, they were just a job, too. You're turning people into blaster practice." His eyes meet Myiari's again. "That's how it feels," he amends himself, voice quiet. Myiari fails to notice the awkwardness of Brek's gesture, or even his expression, though if she does, she hides it well. "You know, now that I think about it, the reason I want to become a full-fledged doctor isn't about the wage increase, or even about helping people," she observes. "Deep down, I kind of want to get away from all the death. I haven't even hit twenty-five yet and I've seen a lot of it already. At the same time, I can't really imagine myself sitting behind a desk." Leaning back against the bench, she growls in frustration at herself, grinding her knuckles against the strap of her goggles. "Grragh! I must be some weirdo masochist or something." His expression resuming normalcy, Brek turns back to the nearby plaza, taking it in with a casual sweep of his arm. The fountain, the flowers, the distant path. "Can't see a masochist looking at this every day. Too nice." His hand drops, the breath draining from him as though his fallen fingers had opened an airlock. "You're not a masochist," he adds, more seriously. "You're a sweet woman with a lot of heart, and you do good work. You'd be wasted on a desk job." He smiles, the expression momentary, a flash of genuine emotion. "Just don't carry your work with you everywhere you go," he adds, rubbing his palms together idly. "You're starting to sound like my boss. Or my dad," she jokes, her mood having lightened up considerably. She tugs her goggles down around her neck, and begins combing her fingers through her hair, attempting to undo the tangles caused by her headgear, and to restore some volume to the golden mass before she slips them back on. "You're quite the softie yourself, you know. I don't think many spacers would've said a lot of the things you did; too emasculating." A faint growl escapes Brek, and he struggles to suppress the embarrassment that registers on his features, throwing his hands momentarily in the air. He settles after a moment or two, hunching his shoulders, and shoots Myiari a strange look. Nonetheless, even with his narrowed eyes, he offers no immediate reply, his fingertips running down the surface of the book. Not for the first time, he stares at it, eyes following the hypnotic movements of the cover art. "You won't tell anyone what I told you?" he probes, at length. "Tell anyone what?" she asks innocently, casually opening her holonovel and peering at Brek from over the edge of the cover. She says nothing for a few moments, her silence eventually broken by another one of her soft chuckles. "Don't worry about it; I won't tell anyone. I'm not the kind of person that likes to spread gossip - I keep it to myself." She stares a Brek for a while in silence before returning her eyes to her book, though she doesn't actually read any of the words displayed on the pages. "You know, I think I'm going to miss you when your shore leave's up and you have to go back to your ship. You're a pretty fun, intelligent guy, and you're a class of tourist I've never seen before." Encouraged by Myiari's own decision to open the book, Brek follows suit with his own, lifting it to conceal his own dour features. His black eyes can scarcely be seen to gleam behind the shimmering pages, staring at the pages but not taking in a word they say. He listens in silence, though his shoulders relax slightly when she reassures him. The tension is quick to return, though, when she speaks once more, one corner of his lip pulling around to visibly indent his cheek. His lips part, and he exhales, nodding. "Yeah," he replies. "I like you." He seems content, however, to leave it at that. Myiari lapses back into awkward silence, an uncertain expression on her face that indicates she wants to say something, but is unsure of exactly what to say. "So...I have a few days off soon. Maybe we could, oh, I don't know, have lunch or something? I could show you around the city some more. Or maybe show you the most magnificent view of the Antilles Sea in the city. I know you won't be staying long on Ord Mantell, but it might as well be a memorable one." She grimaces slightly and stops herself. "Sorry. I'm being pushy. I guess I never really got the whole tourist mentality out of my system even after living here for a year." "I'd like that," Brek replies, lowering his book to glance at Myiari. He's smiling again, a soft but more constant expression than the last one he afforded her. "It's up to you, lieutenant." One hand rises in a jaunty, informal salute. "Give the orders and I'll follow them. You're talking to a man who lives and breathes being pushed around, and you don't even enter into the top ten." He folds the pages closed, tilting his head to one side, his smile still present. There's a note of amusement in it that wasn't present before. "Sell me your city. I'm already thinking I might come back here if I ever manage to retire. Or if I get more shore leave. I want to see as much of it as possible." "Haha! I might not be that great of a tour guide, but I'll try," she chirps brightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I'll be working a late shift on dispatch at the hospital tomorrow, but after that, I should be free for at least three days. So...I'll call you, I guess?" She closes her book and tucks it away into her bag, seeming to be done with reading it - or pretending to read it - for now. "Or I'll call you. As long as we talk soon." Brek pushes himself out of the bench, reaching down and scooping up his half-eaten lunch, the unread book still dangling at his side. "I'll let you read in peace," he comments, closing up the platter and cradling it loosely in his hand. "There's been someone else I've been trying to find. That Rainier guy. I'm going to go see if I can't pin him down." He begins striding away, before adding, "He might have information on some good work. My crew's running dry lately... See you soon?" he pauses, his hand paused halfway through the beginnings of a wave. Myiari nods in reply. "Yeah... See you soon. And be careful, huh? I don't want to have to be hauling your sorry hide to the hospital in the back of an ambulance if you land yourself in trouble." Though the comment is meant to be teasing, there is a note of concern in her words. "I can take care of myself," responds Brek, seeming to dismiss Myiari's comment with a grin and a lackluster downswing of his hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going to end up in your hospital." He turns, walking backwards for a moment, and points directly to her, still caught up in his momentary good humor. "And I *will* see you. Soon. Bye, Myi."